Shoes in hand, to make it sound - it's time to go.
You can almost feel it, thirty-something minutes ticking away. All dressed up, still unsure whether or not to change those jeans and find a better shirt. Checking out of the window, making sure you've got the phone and house keys. 25 minutes to go. Where's the wallet again? Can't wait. It's gonna be a kick-ass party. Minutes have all of a sudden become longer than hours.
And in the end, they'll be late as always.
I think most of us are that way. Something happening within the working week.. and more so over the weekend. Expecting to have more fun than the last time, ready to upgrade the impressions we've made, meet someone new and even more interesting. Only the morning will tell, if and to what extent our expectations actually materialized. Hung over in an empty bed? Wishing you were hung over in an empty bed?
Once you let go and let them open that second bottle of whiskey, the world suddenly lights up. Friends and happy faces all around.. the music trying it's absolute best to keep up with the level of our voices. We find ourselves talking to people we've never known before, laughing while coming across similarities, feeling great when accepting offers of new and never ending friendships. Promising to meet up the next weekend and party even harder. Checking if our drinks are comfortably within reach. If the bottle is still there.
No such thing as morning.
Until you feel it. Something clicked, and you've just become aware of the time. Did you just realize there was nothing more to add to the conversation? Were you filling somebody's glass and the bottle felt half full? Was it the wrong kind of song from the stereo?
How do we always know when it's over?
I guess it has to be the moment when things we wanted to happen, have.. or the instant we let go and give in. We tried, but it didn't happen. Wasn't all we expected it to be.. didn't make us feel the way we had hoped. Regardless of the case, here we are - beginning to miss out on conversations, ever so slowly discovering paintings on the wall and movies under the TV table we never noticed were there. Should we leave now.. or give it another minute? Or two?
Getting a cab on a Friday morning can be an outstanding pain. No matter the number of cab companies in your phone book, it's never enough. Do I wish to wait until you call me back? No thanks, been there, waited for that, didn't really happen in the nearest of futures. So it's time to put one foot in front of the other and take that first step. Thoughts crawling back into your mind, pushing out all that's mellow and replacing it with all things sober. Did I drink too much? Too little? What was the name of that girl again?
Couldn't we leave 15 minutes before it "clicked"? Keep ourselves from winding down.. Still in time to catch that last available cab. I bet it would feel different.
They're ten minutes late, and she's still looking in the mirror, fixing her hair. He can already sense that in a few hours time he'll be filling her glass once more and assessing the party. Will it be everything he was hoping for?
Or will she slowly pick up her shoes..
Click.
And in the end, they'll be late as always.
I think most of us are that way. Something happening within the working week.. and more so over the weekend. Expecting to have more fun than the last time, ready to upgrade the impressions we've made, meet someone new and even more interesting. Only the morning will tell, if and to what extent our expectations actually materialized. Hung over in an empty bed? Wishing you were hung over in an empty bed?
Once you let go and let them open that second bottle of whiskey, the world suddenly lights up. Friends and happy faces all around.. the music trying it's absolute best to keep up with the level of our voices. We find ourselves talking to people we've never known before, laughing while coming across similarities, feeling great when accepting offers of new and never ending friendships. Promising to meet up the next weekend and party even harder. Checking if our drinks are comfortably within reach. If the bottle is still there.
No such thing as morning.
Until you feel it. Something clicked, and you've just become aware of the time. Did you just realize there was nothing more to add to the conversation? Were you filling somebody's glass and the bottle felt half full? Was it the wrong kind of song from the stereo?
How do we always know when it's over?
I guess it has to be the moment when things we wanted to happen, have.. or the instant we let go and give in. We tried, but it didn't happen. Wasn't all we expected it to be.. didn't make us feel the way we had hoped. Regardless of the case, here we are - beginning to miss out on conversations, ever so slowly discovering paintings on the wall and movies under the TV table we never noticed were there. Should we leave now.. or give it another minute? Or two?
Getting a cab on a Friday morning can be an outstanding pain. No matter the number of cab companies in your phone book, it's never enough. Do I wish to wait until you call me back? No thanks, been there, waited for that, didn't really happen in the nearest of futures. So it's time to put one foot in front of the other and take that first step. Thoughts crawling back into your mind, pushing out all that's mellow and replacing it with all things sober. Did I drink too much? Too little? What was the name of that girl again?
Couldn't we leave 15 minutes before it "clicked"? Keep ourselves from winding down.. Still in time to catch that last available cab. I bet it would feel different.
They're ten minutes late, and she's still looking in the mirror, fixing her hair. He can already sense that in a few hours time he'll be filling her glass once more and assessing the party. Will it be everything he was hoping for?
Or will she slowly pick up her shoes..
Click.
posted by Henri M at 2:48 PM
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